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To a blind man who used to see, the snow is a trigger…
…An evocation of true beauty - His hope and his vigour.
A carrier of memories, and sadness, as he looks back on his life…
…His loss heightened by the clarity of his imagining eye.
The senses crackle as he plagues himself to finding a reason…
…But remembered snow is NOT white-

It's a rainbow of colour, hindsight, and the season.

It's snowball fights and ringing laughter. Retrieving the sledge from the roof.
The cold pinch of rosy cheeks. Children in Wellington boots.
Definite pictures, frozen in time. White blankets of snow and embers alight,
With snow, everyone remembers.
With snow, blind men remember their sight.

Looking back all these years on, it seems fairly lame…
…But I placed that memory of our day in the freezer, and there it stayed.
An icon of our marriage... a keepsake... a knowledge of US!
Cold as regretted words - Yet as solid as love!
White as the lies EVERY young couple tells to avoid being proven wrong,
Something I can show our grandchildren now that you are gone.
A small piece of YOU I treasure, knowing you'll never mistake or forget me…
…Holding the orb, I feel your kiss wet my fingers,
And remember snowflakes for confetti.

LOVE MARTINEZ- That's the name her mother had given her,
Stunning in visual, skin honey and cicamore with a touch of some vinegar.
But it wasn't just physical, mentally bright and blessed with her head in the right direction,
Would gaze in the mirror she'd had since birth and be impressed with her nice reflection.
Never the type to question- did what she had to do without givin an attitude,
Lived in a lavish room with a telivision and plasma too.
But something was quite unstable and badly dissaray with this image,
Cus her mother had died in labor and daddy was always on business.
Only saw her on Christmas- would kiss her and pile gifts on a chair,
playin with the cinnamon whisps in her hair, but she could tell he was only pretendin to care.

And every night she'd go to the mirror and sit and stare,
Looking for love and happiness, but glass can't reflect what isn't there.

Infested with anger- her vault of joy was a desolate chamber,
So to feel wanted n liked she'd sneak up in the night and start sexin with strangers.
Then their breath would persuade her that it's love, as they asked her for money,
Now she was smart, but sometimes the heart is more powerful as she passed em it smugly.
Hands on her tummy-- latterly she listened to music while sippin her tea,
Speaking words of a ficticious conclusion that isn't complete.
Sobbing and sighin, while lost in the cryin she had thoughts of her dyin,
proddin god for replies and sonicaly carvin her heart's coffin it lied in.
Tears of sour liquidity streaming her face, unable to speak or to think,
The creeping feelings defeated her grace leavin even her deepest secrets erased.
And every night she'd go to the mirror and sit and stare,
Looking for love and happiness, but glass can't reflect what isn't there.

Now the terra rotted through her eyes, wearing a barren-heart dehumanized,
Walking an abstract street of inactual actions lost in paradoxal suicides.
All these bitter tears living in strife, all because she couldn't get his delight,
No kisses goodnight, no wishes that thrive, more than him she misses his wife.
Imagines how they'd giggle with light, but it was relentlessly futile,
Eyes with a magenta demure, her dad wuld be sorry...if ever he knew her.
Consumed with depression, she did somethin that couldn't lose his attention,
took a razorblade to her beautiful flesh and had it slew at the edges.
A pool full of redness, slowly collapsed to the floor..as dreams absently pour,
Beauty scrambled and torn through an ambulent fantasy she didn't have anymore..
And every night she'd go to the mirror and sit and stare,
Looking for love and happiness, but glass can't reflect what isn't there.

Caught in a chrysalis, her dad returnin the next day made for proper coincidence,
Stopped for coffee and then he went off calmly to talk to his mistresses.
The fog on the window whisped, Suddenly he remembered his dear daughter,
Decided he'd head up and hear from her, but when he got up the steps she appeared startled.
A thousand ghosts raced through his thoughts, her stains tracin pain thru this heart,
Called out her name in agony panicing as she dramatically began strainin to talk.
Musterin all her strength, she said "I love you", lying deep clear into space...
Her eyes froze as she sighed cold...with a final sweet tear down her face..
Now every night he goes to the mirror and sits and stares,
Looking for Love in back of it, but glass can't reflect what isn't there.

[hide]Mynd on Bare legs -- This piece was awesome, but you write such short pieces with little character and plot development, and thats what gets you. Your metaphor was fucking deep as hell, I loved it; but it was like 'metaphor for the love' then 'small reminesence peice' with minimal development and to top it off 'emo ending' there was no action, no excitement, only emotion and thought. Don't get me wrong It was a dope piece but you had so much more room to develop it. Not including the bridge you dropped 25 lines; thats.....FRUSTRATING FOR ME, i want more man...It was eloquent as usual, a little less so then normal, but it still held to a deamenor which i only see from you. The flow was crisp and the rhymes were original and focused. I'm just upset at the lack of content.

Thaumaturge -- OOOOOOOH this battle is hot. Ok first of all, your flow is fucking monsterous, so that makes this battle interesting. at this point your verse is cliche, and thats what is working against you. On the other hand your character development, though straightforward, was gripping as hell; everything from the mirror to her feelings, completely had me locked into your verse. the last stanza felt rushed but other then that this verse was near flawless. I only wished you emphasized how such a giving soul never took anything except for her life; that would have made me do the happy dance. none the less

this battle comes down to metaphor VS development, and I have to say either of these verses could've all the verses i've read (except for my own of course) this week, but faced together there can be only one *cue highlander music*and while Baron had a great piece I dont feel it was developed enough to follow thaumaturges piece. E••••ially since he had small metas and one liners in there that made me nod. good luck guys this'll be close[/hide]

[hide]:
Mr. Mynd - Very dope effort here, a poetically styled verse that came off as poetry but read otherwise most of the time. Quality for quantity is a good way to describe your piece. I thought it was very well written, basically perfectly written. I picked up no stretches in the rhyme patterns and it was structured very nicely as well. Each stanza, including the break between them flowed nicely. On top of all that it was a personal piece that I could feel. I felt the emotion as I read, every line vivid and powerful. This will be hard to beat.

Thaumaturge: Another very good piece. Overlooking the typos and lazy language, the rhyming was excellent, very few stretches and a story that also progressed very well. A powerful story too, although SEMI-cliche, execution left nothing to be desired. I thought the rhyming was way above average and the progression from beginning to end was also good. The third verse was my favorite in this piece.

Vote:........ Mr. Mynd: Dammit it was pretty hard to decide this, really, it was ALMOST a coin toss for me because I enjoyed both pieces nearly equally. But I think in the end Mr. Mynd did more with his piece with less lines than Thaum did with more... BUT, but but but this was a close match-up, it's a really tough call and could go either way. Two dope writers. Dope shit guys... good luck to you both[/b]
[/hide]

[hide]Well shit, this is a pretty good battle as well. Despite the horrendously tiny font, I think I have to go with Thaumaturge on this one (PLEASE FIX THAT!). Baron, that piece was touching, extremely well-written, and I don't know, just damn good. The rhymes were nice and fluid, as was the flow of the piece. The biggest downside for me is the length. I don't mean #of lines as much as I'm talking about depth. I sure you knew this person pretty well, and you gave a nice description overall, but man, I would have LOVED it if you had gone a little more in depth with it. I was just started to get into it and what he was all about, and then it was over. I felt like I wanted to know more and understand more about what he meant to you, and I guess for some reason, it just felt like you could have delved a bit deeper into that. I know that's a pretty shitty reason to not vote for you with such a heartfelt piece, but I don't know, that's just how I feel. I hope you understand that. With Thaumaturge, I thought some of the lines got a bit lengthy, but besides that, that was a damn good piece. The rhymes were pretty much insane for the most part. The imagery was pretty damn dope. I liked the little bridge/hook and how it worked as a transition between various periods of time. The ending, while not particularly surprising, was definitely described well and pretty much fit the rest of the rhyme. I don't know; that's about all I have to say. This could go either way. Baron, you might just win this; it wouldn't surprise me at all, but I had to go with Thaumaturge for the simple reason that I thought his story felt more complete and I think he edged you out in the rhyme department, despite an extremely well-written piece on your part. I guess I just felt like I needed a bit more to really get deep into yours. I hope you can understand that. [/hide]

Battle of the week. Haven't seen much from Baron, maybe a few pieces awhile ago. Shit was real. Definitely heartfelt. Wish it was longer because it was such a nice piece, but at the same time I think it would take away from what was being done. The piece doesn't need to be longer because it accomplishes exactly what it was supposed to. The ending was dope as shit, man, loving it. Thaumaturge, WOW. Never peeped anything from you, and damn I was surprised. This was written beautifully. Vocab, imagery, emotion. It's got it all. It's hard for me to say this, but it actually reminded me of something Richard Corey would write, and he's damn near untouchable. Amazing battle, I read each verse twice, but Thaumaturge just blew me away with that verse. Damn nice.

[HIDE]
Mr Mynd, Interesting narrative structure you used with the relation of snow as a keepsake kind of in the loving memory of a loss one. The flow was nice and on point, but the clarity of the piece in the start and a lil more until you specifically started talking about the loss loved 1 was too metaphorical and lacking clarity to me. It was very poetic in the detailing of the snow to mean so much as a centerpoint of the piece, but it was strange to follow as I just wondered why snow? Then you braught up an orb so I began thinking that you were speaking of a snow globe or something where you shake it up and there's snowflakes of confeti..... then it seemed a bit cooler in it's display. Seemed kinda emotional, but that emotion wasn't clearly expressed until the ending sequence. So I think some of that displayed emotion should of been expressed in the start to clarify the content a little better. I liked a lot of this though, it kinda seems like you're writing from a women's point of view or a homosexual point of view which is a very different perspective than usual and gave this a new scheme. Nice shit, just a lil confusing from the start.

Thaumaturge, the voice of this narration was the strongest factor as it displayed a nice view of scenery and emotion development for the character going through life without her parents. The flow was pretty nice overall, but some lines were really long and through it off in a few places, but not too crucial I guess. The word useage was nicely developed as well with colorful descriptive phrases that made it a lil more complex. Sequencing it the way you did was nice to as she went the phases of needing attention from strangers to mutilating herself to get her father's to notice her and her problems. The character of the father was an interesting underlying motive in the narration to help indentify with the problems of the girl..... as I'm writing this critique, I'm noticing that neither had names, which I think would in making both characters more identifiable. Instead of thinking of them as just father and daughter, I believe this piece would of served as better emotionally relatable content with giving them names. This was pretty well written, no surprising elements really, but more a case study for a psychology class in child development and early aged depression. Like I said nicely written and well played out from start to finish in the content for character development.

Tough choice, both had strong narration and some solid structures for detailing things. The character development over metaphorical outline became a key factor for me in deciding which one of those was stronger and for that,

Mr. Mynd, this has some nice flow and it was consistent. The theme of it seemed kinda weird with the snow being so metaphorical and meaning so much. Poetical and the ending wasn't expected at all. I had no idea this was about a person, but then I see after rereading it. Kinda deep as a send off for the writer's loved and writing from a women's point of view was cool too. Different prespective and nicely done.

Thaumaturge, this started off very rough with really long lines. The flow picked up later and it was pretty nice. The girl was crazy and that shit was fucked up how she's killing herself just so her dad will notice her. The story didn't really go into much details on anything so there was a missing link of details and imgery I think would of helped this out. Pretty cool, just more details and less stretched lines that messes up the flow and creates pauses in the read.